Dead Frontier/Issue 87
This is Issue #87 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled Warehouse. ''This is the third issue of '''Volume 15.' Issue 87 - Warehouse Chloe wraps Alec’s arm with a clean, white bandage after removing a piece of shrapnel embedded deep in his bicep. Lienne sits on a hospital bed to the left, free of any injuries. The room has been silent for nearly a half hour as Chloe tends to Alec, but when she’s finally done, she places a hand on Alec’s knee, a comforting gesture that he doesn’t reject. “I’m sorry,” Chloe says. Alec looks up and her quickly and nods. “Thank you,” he says. “Get some rest if you can. If you want. You too.” She looks to Lienne. “Alright,” Lienne says. “Thanks. Alec, come on.” Lienne walks with him down the hallway, up the flights of stairs that lead to his room. "Get some rest," she instructs as he opens the door. But before he enters, she says, "Wait. Alec." He raises his eyebrows in response. "I know this is really difficult, and I'm sorry. So sorry. But if you need...anything, please come talk to me. Please. It can be whenever. In the middle of the night, early in the morning, whatever. If you need someone, know I'm there, okay?" Alec begins to say something, then stops, practically tackling Lienne with a hug. She actually smiles at the abruptness of it, and returns the hug to him. "Whenever you need me," she says. "Whenever, whenever, whenever." "I know, I know, I know," he says. "Thanks." "I'll be back in a bit, Stumps," she says, breaking away. She gives him a pat on the cheek and turns the other way, down the corridor. ---- Alexander leans his elbows on the counter of his kitchen's suite, Griffin standing opposite him with his arms crossed. Alexander coughs again, covering his mouth with a napkin. "And how often does it happen?" Griffin asks. "It's really all over the place," Alexander says. "Like right now, nothing." He lifts the clean napkin for Griffin to see. "And when it does happen: the blood, what's it look like?" "Dark. It's dark. And there isn't a lot of it, usually. Any ideas?" "Hemoptysis...could mean tons of things. What else is there? You've got, like, pains anywhere? Your chest, your abdomen? Anything?" "Occasionally, some stomach pains. Nothing too serious, though. More of a bother, really." Griffin thinks, and Alexander gauges his expression. "What are you thinking?" "...I'll need to take you downstairs, run some tests." "Tests? Jesus..." Alexander groans. "Just to see what's going on. Don't leave this alone, 'cause it could get worse. You never know." Alexander coughs again, this time into his sleeve. "Have you told her about this?" "Lucy? No. I don't even think she's noticed anything's off about me." "Does that girl even talk to you anymore?" Griffin asks, but immediately questions if he should have brought it up at all when Alexander's expression suddenly changes. "It seems like she's been preoccupied with some other things lately," Alexander says slowly. Griffin nods and uncrosses his arm, instead taking a seat on the stool in front of him. “I get it. Daughters are complicated.” “You never even had a daughter.” “But I had a sister. If my dad was here, he could tell you: she was a piece of work--” Before he can finish his sentence, the door bursts open, and Lucy enters, blood still staining her coat and clothes. Alexander stands up abruptly, his face full of confusion as Lucy runs to him and gives him a hug, tears threatening to spill over her eyes. Griffin sits back and watches, eager for an explanation, but deciding this isn't the best time to speak. “What the hell--what’s wrong?” Alexander asks. “Lucy, what’s the matter? What happened?” “We went--and there was some kind of ambush,” Lucy says. “These guys--I don’t know, they just started shooting, and throwing grenades and--they were from Roxie's group, that's what people are saying--” “Are you hurt?” “Wha--no. No.” “--But, all of the blood--.” “It’s not mine.” “C’mon, get this--get this coat off,” Alexander says; he releases her from his hug, and Lucy begins to unzip her coat. “Let’s get you cleaned up before anything else, okay?” Alexander looks at her and she nods. Looking at her, Alexander feels his own eyes start to sting, overjoyed that she’s okay, angry at himself that he allowed her to leave, wondering who to blame. He embraces her tightly once more, then looks to Griffin. “Go with Griffin, he’ll help you out, alright? I’ll be back.” “Where are you going?” Lucy asks as he walks to the door. “I’ll be back.” Then, he turns around and gives her a quick kiss on the top of the head. “It’ll be alright. Love you, baby girl.” ---- Once he’s a few steps from Hector’s door, Alexander retrieves a ring of keys from his pocket, and searches for the one labeled “414.” He doesn’t waste time knocking, and slides the key in, turns it, and pushes the door open, where he finds Hector lying on his couch, a pillow covering his face. He shoots up straight from his sitting position, and his face falls. “Alex--” he stutters. “Was this you?” Alexander says with surprising calmness. “I--it was...I’m sorry, please, just listen to me.” He stands from the couch and puts his hands out in front of him as a form of defense. He curses himself for letting his nerves get in the way, and he wonders how Alexander could have known he gave Roxie the information regarding the hotel’s next run. But he has no time to come up with an answer because Alexander barrels toward him, and grabs him by the throat. “W-wai--ple--please--” Hector chokes out, the grip on his throat tightening as Alexander’s rage increases. And he has no plans to let go. But he’s forced to when Hector smashes his knee into his midsection. Alexander bends over and clutches his stomach. Hector raises his knee again, and this time connects with Alexander’s temple, causing him to hit the ground. Then, Hector doubles over and coughs, holding his aching throat. Alexander slides backwards while Hector is preoccupied, and grabs onto the edge of the counter, using it to help himself get to his feet. Hector sees this, but before he can rush over, Alexander grabs a knife from the block on the counter. Hector stops in his tracks when Alexander raises the knife. “I’ll go,” Hector says. “I will take Adrienne with me, and we’ll go.” Alexander’s vision is blurry from the blow to the head, and his anger allows him to complete disregard Hector’s words. So, he lunges with the knife, but his injured states makes him much too slow, and Hector easily dodges it. Hector reaches for Alexander’s wrists and tries to pry the knife away. He can’t, so he gives Alexander a hard kick to the stomach, and his grip on the knife loosens. Hector decides he has no other choice, and digs the blade into Alexander’s chest. ---- Cole isn't sure how long it's been when the car finally makes a complete stop and the engine shuts off. All he knows is he wants to be out of the trunk. To breathe fresh air. To see light. Jordie opens the trunk, granting Cole his wish, but he keeps the bag draped over Cole's head. They're outside, in a large cemented lot bordered by chain link fences. A sturdy warehouse stands out the most in the bland area, its roof painted a dark red, the windows boarded up and barred. To the left, there are three other smaller buildings, each with a set of maroon double doors. Having done this so many times before, Jordie leads Cole to the warehouse. The man in the red Beanie heads to the largest of the other three buildings, and Greg assists Topher into one of the others to get his leg checked up on. "Where the fuck am I?" Cole asks. "You should know by now that that question's gonna get you nowhere," Jordie says. He easily pulls open the warehouse's double doors, leading Cole into a bland, grey area filled with dust and cold air. It's completely empty, but from farther away, Cole hears something. Something that sounds like people. Jordie fishes into his pocket for a key, which he uses to open a metal door at the back of the warehouse. The sounds of people--shoutting, muttering, chatter--are louder than ever with the insertion of the key. "Hey, boys," Jordie says to the dozen men shackled to the floor of the cramped room. Their hair is matted, their clothes torn and grimy. Jordie removes the bag from Cole's head, and the sight rattles him to the core. "Look at that. A new guy," a fat guy wearing a stained white tee-shirt says. "Feel free to introduce yourself, make some friends," Jordie says mockingly, and he throws Cole to the floor, where he lands on someone's leg. He grunts as he tries to sit up and when he does, he finds himself in the middle of the circle of people, all eyes fixed on him. "They caught you, huh?" the same fat guy says. Cole nods, surveying each face around him. "What is this?" Cole asks. "How long have you been here?" "It's the warehouse," says another man, his voice clearly that of someone from the South. His blonde hair sticks up at crazy angles, his beady blue eyes glued on Cole. "I've been here for three months." "1 month," the big guy says, and others takes turns explaining the left of their containment: "6 months..." "2 weeks..." "Don't even know anymore..." "Name's Toby," the blonde guy says, and the fat man introduces himself as Lee Lopez. "And who are you?" "Cole," Cole says a little shakily. "Couldn't run fast enough? They caught up to you?" "I couldn't run. I tried, but I got shot the day before. Right here.” He points to his side, where the wound is covered by his coat. “Why am I here? Why are you here?” “It’s the warehouse, man,” Toby says. “They bring you here, you ain’t leaving.” “And--and what does that mean? Why are you locked up in here?” “You don’t come out until he needs you. And being the newbie, they should be back any second now?” “He? Who the fuck is ‘he?’” “John,” Lee says. “It’s his warehouse. He’s a crazy motherfucker, really crazy. He’ll probably want to talk to you soon. He does that with all of the newbies. You’ll be alright, though. He probably won’t kill you. Yet.” “So he’s not gonna kill me, but he’s gonna keep me locked up in here for months? Fucking great, thanks.” “You asked, asshole, and I told you the truth.” “Lee, chill, man,” Toby says. “You ever think this might be a lot for the guy to take in? Cole, right?” Cole nods. “Just relax now, while you can.” How can he relax? He doesn’t bother to ask, but he slides his body to the wall and leans his head against the brick that lines it. Waiting anxiously for what’s the come. ---- “So, Cole Train, got any family? Friends, loved ones? ” Toby asks. Cole’s been here for over an hour, no sign of life from outside this cramped room. “Yeah,” Cole says. “That’s good, that’s good. Any kids?” “No. No family.” “So you’ve got like--like a group or something?” “If you wanna call it that. We stay at this hotel, yeah. Just friends, mostly, and my girlfriend. What about you?” “I’ve got jack shit. Whole family dead by now. But most people can say that now, so I’m not no special snowflake over here.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s good they don't have to suffer through this shit anymore. We’re all dead anyway, you know? We go on, thinking we’re gonna survive this bullshit. But no one's gonna survive this. There's no way. You're dead inside, you're dead outside, or you're a walking corpse. Lose-lose-lose situation." “That’s the fucking truth...” Lee mutters. “Don’t even care anymore. Fuck this place and everything in it. I want to grab a twinkie and hop the fuck out of here.” “Good luck finding one...” a dark-haired man sitting next to him says. “We actually have them, where I’m staying. Just a few,” Cole says. “That hotel must be fucking five star, then," Lee says. "What I’d give for one, man...what I’d give...” Lee leans back and closes his eyes, Cole guessing he’s probably reminiscing about food. Cole does the same, except his mind wanders to Duke--he can't even guess where the hell he is, but he can only hope it's somewhere better than this place--and everyone at the Hyatt. Lucy, in particular, he can’t keep his thoughts away from. If she’s lost somewhere. If she’s even alive. And if she is, if she’s worrying about him. Having only been in love once, and having that love so abruptly snatched away, it feels bizarre to him to be falling in love again, especially with the way the world operates now. And the speed at which his feelings for this girl grew is surprising to him, and even a little scary, he must admit, but he can say with confidence she’s one of the few things that makes him happy anymore. So the fact that he has no idea where she is, if she’s alright, makes his stomach knot up with a familiarity he wishes he didn’t know. And then he hasn’t told her enough how much she does mean to him. More than she probably realizes. And that’s his biggest regret, not letting her know that earlier, now that he might never be able to. “Charcoal, you okay?” Toby asks. Cole’s eyes shoot open, Toby’s words snapping him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to reality. “Not really,” Cole says. “But thanks anyway.” “Being scared’s not gonna do you any favors. Just try to relax for now, like I said.” “I’m not going to relax when death or fucking imprisonment are the only things I can look forward to.” “Makes sense. Sorry. But is it really that bad, though? The death part, I mean. I’d rather be fucking dead right now than in this...shithole. Man...” “When you die, you don’t have to worry no more,” Lee says. “No more pain. Nothing.” “That’s not the fucking point!” Cole suddenly explodes, and he turns his body fully to look at everyone in the room. “It’s not about me! I don’t give a shit about me! I’m lucky enough to have people I love and people I care about out there. They’re probably looking for me right now, putting themselves in danger for me. It’s about them. I’m alive for them, and that’s it. So it’s about more than not wanting to worry anymore. A lot more fucking complicated when you know there are people that are gonna mourn you. So, God forbid, until the day comes when I don’t have any of those people anymore, when everyone I love is dead, I’m not going to wish for the easy way out. And I realize that now.” Toby narrows his eyes at Cole. “You wanna think like that, you should know something then,” Toby says. “It’s gonna be one or the other. They’re gonna mourn you or you’re gonna mourn them. Better find a way to get the fuck over it. I’m done trying to make you feel better.” “Maybe John’ll feed him to the pack,” someone mutters to Toby. “Not even give him a chance.” “Yeah. See how your friends and your girl like not knowing where the hell your body is. Should be fun for them to guess what happened to you.” “Aw, Toby, you don’t gotta be like that,” Lee says. “No, I do. He should know the truth, right? He thinks he’s big and bad. You can take it, can’t you?” He raises his eyebrows toward Cole, looking for an answer, but the door opens before Cole can give one. Jordie, crumbs covering his chubby face, stands there, glaring straight at Cole. “Hope you gave him a warm welcome, guys,” he says. “John’s ready for you, though. Come on.” Jordie grabs Cole by the arm and lifts him to his feet harshly, nearly pulling him throughout the warehouse, which Cole now realizes is much bigger than he initially thought. Jordie leads him down a short hallway, where he passes a window to a room filled with infected; they claw and lick the glass, blood stains covering the window. When they pass certain doors, they hear the occasional groan and scream. How many people do they have here? And what the hell do they do to them? They finally reach a room near the back of the building. Jordie fishes a key from his pocket, then opens the door. The rusty hinges creak, and Cole is thrown into a room just as grimy and beat-up as the rest of the warehouse. There’s no chair, no bed, no furniture, so Cole hits the ground. He’s still handcuffed, so he has nothing to break the fall with; he lands on his front, where his chest smashes into the concrete, knocking air out of his lungs, then his chin hits the ground. He can feel the blood filling his mouth immediately. “Eh...just stay here,” Jordie says. “John don’t take long.” After Jordie leaves, Cole sits up. He spits some blood out of his mouth, then scoots toward the corner, where the light from the room’s only window shines. And John doesn’t take long; in just two minutes, he enters the room, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark hair is gelled back, and it appears that he hasn’t changed his clothes for days. “I wonder what the boys told you about me--Jordie did keep you with the boys, right?” John says. Cole nods. “Good, good. I’m John, but you know that. With an ‘H.’ Not Johnathan, either, just John.” Cole notices he’s a little fidgety, constantly shoving his hands in his pockets and taking them out, or picking at his fingernails. “J-o-h-n. And you are?” “I’m--” He spits on the floor once more, expelling the blood that rapidly fills his mouth. “Cole.” “Oh, thank God. Sometimes I gotta sit here for twenty minutes waiting for people to give me their names. They don’t understand you just have to tell me what I want to know. Makes me like you more. Maybe even go easy on you...so how old are you?” “25.” “Good age. Great age. You--are you sick or anything? Asthma, diabetes, any medical problems like that?” “What--no. No, I’m fine.” John claps his hands together once. “This is good. This is good so far. You’ll do good here. Ok, I’ll be back. Then I’ll get you prepared and everything. Sound good?” “Wait--Wait! Prepared for what?” “I--I can’t tell you. It’ll ruin the surprise,” John says. “And your faces are always so priceless...Just wait, just wait. I’ll be back.” And all of Cole’s questions go unanswered as John leaves, leaving him alone in the dark room once more. Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories